


Sure As The Stars

by noxlee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Established Relationship, M/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 23:47:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17130989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxlee/pseuds/noxlee
Summary: It’s Cas and Dean’s first Christmas together in their new house. The decorations are hung, the cookies are made, and Dean can’t wait to spend the holiday season with Cas. But when he starts coming home late from work, Dean worries that Cas might be keeping something from him.





	Sure As The Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [turningthepages](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turningthepages/gifts).



> Written for the profound bond winter wonderland exchange. For turningthepages, who requested established relationship and misunderstandings. Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Thanks to [robotsnchicks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotsnchicks/pseuds/robotsnchicks) for being my sounding board, and to a plethora of beta readers. Somehow I started with none, and wound up with three of you, for which I'm very grateful: [pherryt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt), [captainhaterade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhaterade/profile), and [sharkfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/pseuds/sharkfish).

 

“Morning, sunshine!” Dean smiles as Cas stumbles groggily into the kitchen and makes a beeline for the coffee pot. The machine splutters at him and Cas scowls before filling his travel mug and sagging against the counter to savour the first sip.

While Cas remains rooted to the spot and as monosyllabic as he always is in the mornings before coffee, Dean putters about packing a brown bag with an apple and the leftovers from last night. He shoves it into Cas’s hands and ushers him towards the door.

“You’re gonna be late for work. I was thinking tacos tonight, that sound okay?”

Cas blinks slowly as Dean helps him shrug into his jacket and opens the door against a burst of cold winter air. Dean can see the moment Cas finally comes online. His eyes brighten as they lock on Dean’s for the first time that morning and a soft smile forms on his lips. “I— yes, that sounds delicious. Thank you.” He looks down and squeezes his brown bag lunch. “Dean, I—”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m awesome. Now get outta here.” Dean gives him a quick peck on the cheek and shoves him gently out the door. “See you tonight.” 

  
\-----  
  


After tidying the kitchen and prepping for dinner, Dean surveys the rest of their home. They haven’t got a tree yet, but Dean has the day off work and has been thinking about making Christmas cookies after he rips up the tile in the downstairs washroom. Maybe he’ll put up some decorations, too—he has a box of old stuff from his parents’ house that Sam dropped off the last time he was over: lights, tinsel, and strings of that tacky sparkly garland that was popular when they were kids. He’s certain Cas will really love it though, if his car is anything to go by. The Continental is the epitome of tacky.

They only just bought the house a few months ago, so it will be their first Christmas here. The sellers were leaving in a hurry so they got a great, albeit unexpected deal considering they hadn’t even been looking seriously at the time. It happened so fast that most days, Dean looks around and can’t quite believe that his life is real.

He’s known Cas forever, of course. He’s loved him forever, too. They’ve always been Dean and Cas, but they haven’t been _Dean and Cas_ for all that long. The enormity of sharing his life like this with Cas still catches him off guard sometimes and leaves him breathless. It’s everything he’s ever wanted, but a part of him never really expected he’d get to have it.

The backdrop of his childhood fantasies involved a much nicer place though, Dean muses, as he hacks away at tile grout. Their bargain house is kind of falling apart, and “fixer-upper” is a little too generous.  
  


\-----  
  


Dean’s just pulling a tray of shortbread from the oven when he gets a text from Cas.

 **Will be a bit late again tonight. Save me some tacos?** A string of hearts and kissy faces follows.

Dean frowns. Normally, Cas’s emoji-riddled texts never fail to make him smile, but this is the third time in only a week and a half that Cas has stayed late at work.

The thing is, Cas hates his job in accounting. He always comes home in a huff, fumbling angrily at the tie around his throat and the buttons of his shirt sleeves. Dean loves Cas in his suit—all stiff pressed lines and taut material stretched tight across his shoulders that makes Dean want to sink to his knees. But he also adores watching Cas come home and shed the layers of stiffness for his worn jeans and hoodie and tumble into Dean’s arms all soft and rumpled.

Dean’s been telling Cas for months that he should look for work elsewhere if it makes him this unhappy. He hates that Cas loses eight hours of his life every day in an office cubicle having his soul slowly leached from him. He hates that every night Cas comes home, it takes a little longer for him to relax, to shed himself of the stresses of work.

It’s budget season, so Cas has been stretched thin at work lately. But Dean doesn’t understand why Cas would bother staying late to put in extra time for a company he loathes and an asshole boss that’s just going to take all the credit. 

  
\-----  
  


When Cas finally _does_ come home, he brushes past Dean like a whirlwind and heads straight for the washroom, like he’s done every time he’s come home late. A wave of artificial scent like cheap air freshener trails behind him and Dean sneezes.

“Dinner smells amazing,” Cas calls. “I’m just going to have a quick shower first, and—oh!”

Despite his slight annoyance, Dean can’t help but smile at Cas’s glee as he discovers the garland wrapped around their staircase.

“Dean, I love this.” Cas smiles down at him from the stairs before starting back up. “I’ll be right down,” he calls. The bathroom door slams shut upstairs and Dean hears the sound of running water. 

It’s strange. Normally, Cas gets handsy and gravitates straight into Dean’s space the second he gets home. But the nights that Cas has been late, he’s been weirdly fixated on some immediate need for a shower.

If Dean didn’t know any better, he’d think Cas was avoiding him.  
  


\-----  
  


Dean’s pulling taco shells from the oven when Cas returns to the kitchen with bare feet and damp hair, and snakes his arms around Dean from behind. He nuzzles into Dean’s neck and Dean sighs at the familiar warmth of Cas pressed along his back.

“What can I do?” Cas murmurs as he nibbles on Dean’s ear.

“Cheese still needs to be grated.”

Cas nips the back of his neck, and then is gone, pulling open cabinet doors.

As they eat, Cas tells him about his day. Normal. Boring. Soul-sucking as always, but he’s less disgruntled tonight than usual. Dean nods along and tries to tamp down a gnawing feeling of unease. It’s not like Cas to be this happy and relaxed after such a long day at work.

They talk about how their furnace has been making funny noises, and make plans to call a few companies to get quotes for repairs that they almost certainly can’t afford.

Cas tries one of the shortbreads and lets out a long, lewd moan of pleasure that makes Dean glad he decided to bake.

It’s all very normal, and Dean can almost forget that Cas has been acting a bit odd. He’s most likely worrying for nothing.

  
\-----  
  


Later that night, Cas presses soft kisses all down the inside of Dean’s thighs and swallows around him. He makes a valiant effort, and normally Dean’s dick would be very appreciative of the swirls Cas’s tongue is making— the way he hollows his cheeks and trails one finger a little further back. But tonight, Dean finds himself a little too distracted by stray thoughts about Cas’s strange behaviour, making it difficult for him to… fully participate.

To Cas’s credit, he doesn’t seem upset. He kisses his way back up Dean’s torso and arches a brow at him. Dean shrugs helplessly and Cas smiles fondly.

“We’ll figure out the furnace,” he says as he turns off the bedside light and nestles himself next to Dean. “Don’t let it worry you like this.”

“Mhmm,” Dean mutters. 

When he offers to blow Cas instead, Cas just kisses his forehead and tells him to get some rest.

Dean lies awake long into the night, listening to the soft sounds of Cas sleeping next to him.  
  


\-----  
 

At work the next day, Dean buries himself under the hood of an old Toyota for most of the afternoon. He tries to keep distracted, but his thoughts inevitably stray back to Cas. He doesn’t want to think about it—tries really hard not to—but a niggling feeling in the back of his brain and a sinking feeling in his gut have him examining the the past week in detail.

Cas has been coming home late from work. More than that, Cas has been coming home late from a job he _hates_ , where he normally can’t leave fast enough. And on the nights Cas comes home late, he stinks of a weird cheap scent and rushes to shower before he’ll even come near Dean, let alone touch him. And, perhaps most concerning of all, on the nights Cas comes home late from work he’s been in a wonderful mood, with a lightness and cheeriness about him that’s uncharacteristic for having spent a long day at the office.

Alone but for the engine in front of him, Dean finds himself thinking the one thing he’s been desperately avoiding.

He wants to laugh. It’s ridiculous. This is _Cas_ , and Cas couldn’t possibly be cheating on him. Dean’s certain Cas isn’t the type for an affair— he’s the most loyal, kindhearted person Dean’s ever met.

He wraps up for the day, and reminds himself of this simple fact. Cas is loyal and kind. He repeats it over and over on his drive home, trying to calm himself after Cas texts to tell him he’ll be late again.

Cas is the guy who was once so guilt-ridden that he sent his old insurance company an apology gift basket after Dean made him switch to one with cheaper premiums. He’s the guy who keeps tuna cans in his car for stray cats, and is so averse to conflict that he drives three towns over to see the same dentist he’s seen for years because he doesn’t want to switch to one closer. He’s the guy who won’t ever let Dean kill a spider and insists instead on scooping them up, talking softly to them, and setting them carefully outside. There’s a goddamn centipede living in a jar in their kitchen window right now, because Cas said it was too cold to put it outside in the December snowstorm. Dean was ready to stomp on it, but Cas— well, Cas felt _sorry_ for it and has been feeding it scraps of food ever since.

No, Cas is too considerate and steadfast for an affair. Dean’s certain of it. He feels bad for even considering the possibility.

But then an even more awful thought occurs to him. What if Cas is sneaking around because he really _can’t_ break up with Dean?

What if Dean’s like the dentist three towns over, and even though Cas could find someone better, he won’t ever leave Dean because he’s so bad at breakups? What if Dean is the ugly fucking centipede that Cas just feels sorry for?

He’s so lost in thought that he nearly misses seeing the beige Continental out of the corner of his eye. Dean slams on the brakes and stares. There, parked in a tiny strip mall plaza next to the sleazy motel—that’s nowhere near Cas’s office—is Cas’s ugly-ass car.

Dean’s pulling in and parking next to it before he can really register what’s happened. He turns the Impala off, and sits with his hands shaking on the wheel for several minutes, taking stock of the situation. He looks down at his phone and the last message from Cas.

**Will be home late xoxo.**

In the end, he decides the not knowing will kill him more than the pain of seeing, and he’s slamming the car door more forcefully than he’d intended and stalking towards the motel entrance, oblivious to the cold December air, past the other parked cars and the storefronts and the— _Cas?_

Dean does a double-take and stares slack-jawed. There, sitting on the floor just inside  the front window, is Cas and a cat. A whole bunch of cats, actually. ANIMAL RESCUE, the sign on the door reads, as Dean pushes it open. A bell dings loudly and Cas looks up in surprise. A redhead also looks up from where she’s filing papers at the front desk, but anything she might have been about to say is lost under Cas’s voice of surprise.  

“Dean!”

Heady, overwhelming relief floods through Dean and he lets out a shaky laugh. “Really, Cas? _Cats_?”  

Cas stands abruptly, sending various cats scattering and furrows his brow in concern. “Dean, what are you doing? You shouldn’t be here.”

Dean looks around and meets the eye of the redhead at the desk who’s eying him curiously. He winks at her. “You don’t mind, do you, sweetheart?”  
  
“It’s Charlie,” she says, rolling her eyes. But her gaze is kind and she opens a gate for Dean to step into the enclosure behind the desk. “Any friend of Cas is a friend of mine.”

Dean nods and turns back to Cas. “I saw your car in the lot and thought... with the motel and the late nights, I—” he laughs again and runs a hand through his hair. “I can't believe you ditched me for cats.”

The concerned look on Cas’s face melts into one of confusion and he squints at Dean. “Wait… you saw my car here and your first thought was that I was having an affair?"

Dean’s mouth opens with a quick retort but he swallows it down and licks his lips. His mouth fumbles uselessly for a moment, trying to find the right words. “Well, it wasn’t my _first_ thought,” he finally manages.

“An affair?” The redhead named Charlie comes out from around the counter and nudges Cas. “This guy? You’ve gotta be kidding me. You must be—”

“Dean.”

“Right.” Charlie nods her head at Cas. “He won’t shut up about you, you know. All I ever hear is Dean this, Dean that.”

Dean’s reply is lost to a loud sneeze.

Cas frowns. “Dean, I’m serious. You really shouldn’t be here with your allergies.”

“Ohh.” Sudden realization settles over Dean. “ _That’s_ why you were showering as soon as you got home.”

Cas’s continues to squint at him in confusion and cocks his head to one side. “Well, yes. I’ve been trying to cover up the smells of the shelter so it didn’t affect you, but I didn’t want to take any chances.”

It’s then that Dean spots a can of air freshener on a table near the door and he groans inwardly.  
  


\-----

  
Cas frets about Dean's allergies and flinches every time he sneezes, but Dean insists it's not that bad, and asks Cas to tell him about the cats, curious to learn what's captured his attention these past few weeks.

Cas plunks himself down by the Christmas tree set up in the corner of the rescue and several small kittens immediately jump in his lap. Dean sits next to him, shoulders brushing, and waves softly at the little orange kitten that goes catapulting off Cas's knee and whizzing by them.

"This is Meg," Cas says, drawing Dean’s attention away from the orange kitten. He smiles proudly at an ancient-looking tabby cat that limps slowly toward him. Her fur is still mangy, even though it's evident someone's been brushing and caring for her. One eye is nearly swollen shut with some kind of infection, an ear looks as though something took a bite out of it, and her tail is bent at an odd angle. She hisses at Dean like she wants to scratch his face off and leaves a wide berth around him, which suits Dean just fine.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Cas beams.

Dean's fairly certain he's never seen anything so ugly in all his life, but he doesn't tell Cas as much.

The kittens scatter and Meg curls into Cas's lap like she belongs there. She's old and arthritic, and Cas tells him all about some kind of respiratory thing that makes her eyes look crusty and her nose drip. But Cas stares lovingly at her, completely transfixed as she sits and glowers at Dean.

"Meg's been here almost nine months now," Cas says. "Nobody seems to want her."

"Shocking," Dean mutters, and the sarcasm is lost on Cas.

"I know. I was really hoping she'd find a home for Christmas."

They sit there together by the tree, watching some of the younger kittens jump around excitedly with Charlie as Cas scritches at Meg’s head. The lights twinkle and shine in Cas’s eyes.

"Hey, Cas?" Dean asks, and Cas hums but doesn't look up from petting Meg. "Why didn't you tell me this was where you've been going? At first I thought you were staying late at work. And then I thought… well, you know."

Cas looks up at that, brow furrowed in confusion. “I never said I was staying late at work. I guess I figured you’d ask if you wanted to know. It’s just, I know how much you hate cats… how _vehemently_ you hate cats. I didn't think you'd be interested."

"I'm interested in anything that makes you this happy, Cas. I'm sorry you didn't feel like you could share it with me."

Cas shrugs. "I didn't like that I was coming home from work in such a foul mood all the time and dumping that on you. Spending some time here after work helps me to unwind and Meg here doesn't seem to mind my bad moods much."

"I can help you unwind," Dean insists. "And I don't mind your bad moods either. For better or for worse, right?"

A flicker of guilt passes over Cas’s face. "I know. But I like it here. And I like being able to come home to you without the cloud of the office hanging over me all the time. I guess I’ve been keeping it to myself because I didn’t know how to tell you how unhappy I’ve been at work lately."

Dean snorts. "That’s not exactly breaking news, Cas. God, you really need to leave that place. I hate what it’s doing to you."

"I've been telling him the same thing," Charlie pipes up. "Job offer still stands, Cas." She points to a job posting on the bulletin board for a Fund Development Coordinator. Dean can’t make out all the details from where he’s sitting, but Cas has been talking for years about transitioning to nonprofit. He’s crazy good with numbers but Cas was never meant for corporate bottom lines.

Cas clams up, muttering under his breath that he’ll consider it, but Dean can tell he’s being evasive. He tries to push for more details, but dissolves into a fit of sneezes and Cas insists it’s time to go.  
  


\-----  
  


Cas picks up takeout on the way home and they eat on the couch watching TV. Afterward, Cas curls into Dean’s side, head on his shoulder. Dean’s nearly fallen asleep when Cas speaks up.

"Are we going to talk about it?"

"About what?" Dean’s instantly awake.

"The fact that you thought I was having an affair."

Dean’s stomach lurches, and he tries not to visibly tense. Cas notices though, and reaches for Dean’s hand, stroking softly against the inside of his palm.

Dean lets out a slow breath. “Only if we can talk about the fact that there's a perfect job for you right under your nose and you're not going for it."

Cas is silent for a moment, then nods. "Okay. Me first, though."

He keeps his head tucked against Dean’s shoulder and Dean’s grateful for the lack of eye contact, fairly certain Cas has done so deliberately. This is a thing they do now. After years and years of so many things unsaid, they talk to each other now— _really_ talk, about important shit and how they feel about things.

It’s hard. It shouldn’t be, but Dean can’t help but feel flayed raw when he has to open up like this and stop guarding his heart. The thing is, Cas already knows him inside and out, knows the shape of his heart, and still loves all the ugly, vulnerable bits. Dean’s sometimes a little wistful for all the years they could have had together if they’d started talking sooner.

“I’m sorry,” Dean starts. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. But when you were coming home late and heading straight for the shower... and when you were suddenly happier… I just… I’m sorry. I got scared.”

Cas squeezes his hand. “I should have told you about the shelter. I would have if you’d asked, you know, but it was selfish to keep it to myself. I should have realized how that would cause you to worry. And I’m going to be better at helping you know that you’re loved so you’ll never have reason to wonder about that again.”

Dean does jolt at that. “Cas, honestly it’s just my imagination running away from me. I never actually thought—”

“I know,” Cas says. “But I can do better.”

“Doubtful. You’re already pretty fucking perfect.”

Cas hums. “I know there’s been a lot of people in your life that have left you,” Cas says. “I hope you can trust that I’m not going to be one of them.”

“I do.”

“I mean it, Dean.” Cas sits up and moves to straddle Dean’s lap. He takes Dean’s face in his hands, his gaze unwavering and intense. “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Dean blinks, overwhelmed by the full force of Cas’s devotion. “Uh, yeah. Roger that.” Hoping to lighten the mood, he smirks, clicks his mouth, and fires off finger guns. “Right back atcha.”

Cas’s smile is radiant when he leans in to kiss him on the forehead. Then on the nose, soft and gentle. Then he kisses him properly and Dean melts into him, eyes flickering shut. In no time at all, the kiss deepens as Cas nips at his lower lip and his hands snake into Dean’s hair, pulling just enough that Dean can feel the sting.

Cas trails his mouth down to kiss over Dean’s pulse point and rolls his hips in a slow, languid motion. Dean bucks up to meet him, head falling back against the couch with a groan.

And then he remembers. “Cas,” he pants.

“Mmm.” Cas has reached one hand down to his pants where he’s tracing a finger along Dean’s growing erection and fumbling with the button.

“Cas, you didn’t… I… nnngh.” With a groan, Dean shoves Cas back a little and blinks away the haze of his arousal.

“Dean?”

“We didn’t talk about the job.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Yeah. Wait...” Dean rolls his eyes as understanding finally dawns on him. “Is _this_ why you didn’t tell me you were going to the shelter? You didn’t want me to find out about the job?”

Cas deflates, his shoulder slumping. “I knew you’d want me to apply.”

“Damn straight I do. Tell me about it.”

Cas picks at a loose thread on his sweater. “Well, on paper it’s a great job but—”

“Dream job,” Dean interrupts to clarify.

“Yes,” Cas relents. “It’s… what I would have liked. But it would mean about a twenty percent cut in pay and we’re not exactly swimming in money here.”

“We’ll manage.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Sure I do. I can pick up extra shifts at the garage, and I’m due for a pay raise in February anyway. You can do freelance work when tax season rolls around. And I was thinking maybe we could rent out the spare bedroom.”

“Absolutely not. If we take on a boarder, I won’t get to watch you cook naked on Sundays anymore.”

They bicker back and forth until Cas relents and promises to at least think about it and Dean drags Cas upstairs to kiss away the worry lines around his eyes.  
 

\-----  
  


Two weeks later, the night before Christmas, Dean sits curled with Cas on the sofa again, sipping hot chocolate and admiring the lights of their Christmas tree.

It’s not really a Christmas tree in the literal sense of the word. More of a makeshift, macgyvered creation they’d assembled from a wobbly old coat rack that they’d hung a wreath on. Garland wraps around the stand from top to bottom, with cheap ornaments and tinsel hung from hooks and along the garland. A star balances precariously on top.

Their furnace is turned down to save on the gas bill, but snuggled together they barely notice. The weird noise has stopped, too. Evidently the only thing wrong was that it needed a new filter.

Cas turned in his resignation to accept the job at the shelter, and Dean has never seen him happier. Their renovations are on hold, their Christmas “tree” is wobbling dangerously to one side, and they’ve agreed not to exchange gifts this year. But seeing Cas like this is the best gift Dean could have ever hoped to receive.

He tosses a small wrapped package into Cas’s lap. “Here, I couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning.”

Cas frowns. “I thought we weren’t exchanging gifts. 

“We’re not. Just open it.” 

Cas picks carefully at the tape and slowly peels back the paper. “Claritin?” He holds up the box of pills and looks at Dean in confusion.

“Yep. So they’re technically for me,” Dean grins. “I’ve been taking them for the past couple weeks and spending my lunches with Charlie at the shelter to see how I’d react and build up a tolerance. Doc gave me the all-clear and everything ‘cause it turns out my allergies aren’t all that bad.”

Hope sparkles in Cas’s eyes, but his voice is steady and even when he speaks. “What are you saying?”  
  
“You still hung up on that sickly old cat?”

“Oh, Dean I—” 

“Cause I think,” he interrupts, “as long as she stays out of our bed and I don’t get too up close and personal with her, I’ll be fine. And something tells me that’ll suit her just fine anyway.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“I really wanted to have her here to give you, but Charlie wouldn’t budge on that. She said—”

“Pets aren’t presents.” 

“Yeah, that. But she’s ours if you want her, Cas.”

“I do. I really do.”

Dean grunts as the full and considerable weight of Cas barrels into him for a hug and he chuckles as he returns the embrace.

“Merry Christmas, Cas.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is very much appreciated, though I'll be without much access for the next few days over the holidays so response time may be slower than usual.
> 
> Rebloggable post on [tumblr](https://nox-lee.tumblr.com/post/181381147813/sure-as-the-stars-on-ao3-its-cas-and-deans) and [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/posts/349735).


End file.
